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User blog:WayfinderOwl/BTM: Who Needs Friends (I'm Rich) 3
Brother, Friend, Dormmate I handed a can of beam cola to Pete. Lucky for us there was a vending machine. We were trapped in the lighthouse for nearly three hours by my count, probably more than that in total. Tad showed no signs of coming back, and the door was jammed pretty tight. Pete looked at the can with a smile. “Before you came along I never much cared for this stuff. Reminded me too much of Gary.” “Grows on you, doesn’t it?” “Yeah, a bit.” “What did Gary do to you?” “Drank this stuff all day, so he could mess with me while I slept. Like tie me up or shave my hair or something.” “There is another option, you know.” “For what?” “Sorting out your Gary problem. My room has more than enough space for just one. You already have a key. You could move into my dorm.” “But there is only one bed.” “Then we move yours into our dorm.” Pete smiled. “Then yes. We could share a dorm.” The doors burst open. In the frame was a boy. I knew him. Bryce Montrose. He gave me the day planner I never used. He seemed different from Tad and Chad. Not so eager to see us locked in the dark. “Josh?” said Bryce, in the same faux-British accent as the majority of the Preps. “Bryce, I’m here,” I replied, standing. Relief spread across Bryce’s features. In his hand was a book I recognized. Poorly printed. Spiral bound. The Bullworth Crest on the cover. Our school rulebook. It came with my welcome pack. Two questions sprang to mind in that one moment; What was Bryce doing here? Why did he even need the rule book? '' “Have no fear,” said Bryce. “I am not here on either Tad’s orders or Derby’s. My motives are my own.” “That is reassuring,” I said, with a sarcastic edge. Working on his own. Another hazing scheme for Pete and I. “Trust me, Josh, am I on your side,” Bryce reassured. “I have grown weary of the treatment of being on the lowest rung. The moment I heard of your incarceration, I collected something to make sure Tad shall not get away this, and rushed to your side to release you.” I helped Pete up. Walked to the door, testing Bryce’s so called kindness. He moved. Light flooded through the door blinding me. Squinting, I stepped out of the old lighthouse into the morning sun covered beach of Old Bullworth Vale. My legs refused to co-operate. Leaning on Pete, I made my way down off the wooden jetty to the sand. Out of tiredness, I slumped down onto the sand, followed by Pete. “Just a few minutes rest, Bryce.” Bryce nodded. “Rest all you need. You have been there all night.” He was silent for a few moments, but he simply couldn’t keep his eyes off me. “Josh, may I ask you a personal question?” “Yeah, sure.” “Did your father ever gamble in Liberty City?” As much as I tried to resist it, a laugh came out anyway. “Did my dad gamble? That is like saying does the sun rise or does a bear take a dump in the woods. Hell yeah he did. He would get my mom to earn him a tab to ante up with.” Pete’s eyebrows raised. “You mean… she would have to…” His cheeks darkened. “She did,” I confirmed. “Not that it bothered her much. They used to call him the Cobra, because he was always going against a guy they called Mongoose.” “I figured as much,” said Bryce. “My father is Mongoose. He lacked the imagination to create a better name.” “I dunno,” I muttered. “Mongoose Montrose is pretty cool. Better than Cobra Hyde.” “Are you done resting?” Bryce enquired. “Yeah,” I said, heaving my reluctant body up off the sandy ground. ^^^^ Tad Spencer was stunned to see us walk into the upstairs parlor. Most of the fraternity were playing cards or sipping beam cola like it were wine on the couch, eating tea sandwiches. “Josh,” said Derby, looking up from the seven cards in his pale manicured hands. “Where were you?” He ignored Pete entirely, as if he were no more than a pair of hanging drapes. “Ask him,” I said, pointing to Tad—who promptly started choking on his tea sandwich. Derby turned his head towards Tad like an emperor deciding the fate of a gladiator in the arena. I squirmed, even though I’m not the target of the icy glare. All went so silent, that if someone dropped a pin, every thud and tap would be heard. “Explain yourself Tad,” Derby ordered. Sweat spread across Tad’s brow. Dripping down onto his argyle Aquaberry sweater. “Just…” The words caught in his throat. His lips moved, but no words came. “Harmless hazing.” “Harmless?” I blurted out. “You held me and Pete hostage since yesterday afternoon in the old lighthouse!” Bryce opened the school rulebook. “The rules clearly state, if Harrington House is ever reported for hazing, our charter will be taken. The fraternity will be disband.” “I am very aware of the rules, Bryce. Tad explain yourself,” Derby commanded. “Explain to me how someone I personally chose, along with someone not part our fraternity, being tied up in the old lighthouse is proper behavior within our guidelines.” Tad lowered his head in shame. He knew very well, that if he kept up the hazing lie, he would be out on his ear. “Oh, very well. I dislike him immensely, and wanted to remove him from our fraternity.” “Cease and desist your vendetta at once, or you shall be the one leaving not Josh.” Tad nodded his head. He may have admitted defeat just this once, but his hatred for me wouldn’t be so easily be dissuaded. Being held hostage was the least of my problems. His glare told me that much. Derby turned his gaze to me. Icy glare melting away. “Josh, do join us. You must be famished. Your friend may stay just this one time.” I looked to Pete, who shrugged. Returning to Derby, I said, “Thank you, but no. There is two Burger triple stack meals with our names on it.” Derby’s face crinkled with revulsion at my choice of meal, but he made no protest at my departure. Pete and I stopped outside of the front doors, looking to Bryce who had followed us. To our stunned faces, Bryce explained, “I thought I may join you. One of those triple stack meals does sound most appetizing.” “Sure. Come along, Bryce,” I said. ^^^^ Bryce stuck out like a sore thumb. He demanded that a random employee, who was scrubbing the dirty floors, to seat us as if he were the maitre d’. Pete had to explain that we chose our own seats. Bryce then tried to give the same cleaner his order, mistaking him for a waiter. I went to the counter to order the food. I returned with a full tray, setting out all the food. It was inferior quality food, the fries were half cold and needed salt, the soda was almost flat, the burger needed plenty of ketchup, but I would choose it over milky sugarless tea and watercress sandwiches any day of the week. Conversation with him was a little dry. I was just glad to get back to school. In the main office there was a letter for me. My eyes widened at the address. Everything was right. My name, the school address. The handwriting was extremely familiar; it was mine. Had no memory of writing myself a letter. ''Why would I need to? Only in the safety of my dorm, did I dare to open it. I tore the envelope open. A single newspaper article fell out. The headline read; BOY SAVED FROM FLOODED BASEMENT IN BURNING PALETO BAY HOUSE. The article spoke of a brave man saving a young boy of eleven, from a flooded basement. How the boy had accidently run down there to escape the fire. It was a lie. I was the boy. Dad wanted the insurance money. Mom lead me down to the basement, left me there, and ripped out one of the pipes. She knew that help would come faster if there was a child in trouble. Dad was too cheap to pay the electricity bill. We had no power. On the way out, he knocked over a burning candle. The picture showed the burning house. My name was never mentioned, or my parents. Dad got his insurance pay out, and we got a new home in Vespucci. The nights I spent terrified to go to sleep, in case I found myself back in that basement, were far too many to count. Someone was desperate to send me this message, that they knew the horrors of my past, but who they were was beyond me. Whomever that may be, made sure they got my attention. Pete came in to see if I wanted to watch TV. His enthusiasm faltered at the sight of my face. “What is wrong?” he asked. I showed him the article. “The boy was me.” “What kind of sicko would dig this up now?” I handed him the torn envelope. “I’ve seen this handwriting somewhere before,” Pete muttered. “You should. It is mine.” “Someone must have forged it.” “My thoughts exactly. But who? Who would get off on such a sick trick?” “You really can’t think of anyone.” “Gary. But, this is beyond even him. How would he even know about this? No one knew about this. My name was never mentioned anywhere. No one knew my name. Everyone in Paleto Bay called me “The Boy.” No one even knew our real surnames. How could he know that out of all the kids, who were injured in and around Paleto, this one was me? I don’t believe that he just got lucky. Even though he is the obvious choice, I doubt it is him.” “You’re probably right. All the places you’ve lived wouldn’t be on their records anyway. Where were you living before you came to Bullworth?” “San Fierro. My parents had plans to move to a place called North Yankton.” “Josh, don’t take this to wrong way, but I’d love to have travelled around as much as you have.” “Why?” “My life is boring. My dad is a librarian. My mom is a housewife. They live in an apartment in Bullworth Town. I don’t even know what the outskirts of town looks like.” “If I could trade—no, I don’t think I would. I wouldn’t wish my life on anyone.” I patted him on the arm. “Come on, let’s start moving your stuff in here.” Packing up Pete’s stuff was easy. He barely had that much stuff at all. Anything to do with books or stationery was in his locker. Personal stuff was at home. Only clothes and the odd class project. Half of his clothes were in my wardrobe anyway. Anything white, and Gary stole it to dye it pink. One trip, with a box each did the trick. The bed however. Was a headache and a half. Pete carried the pillows and the blankets in a few trips. Carrying the mattress was difficult. I was stronger than Pete. We had to keep stopping to rest and trying again. A couple of kids stopped to watch. Trent and Davis were hanging out in the dorms. They decided to help out. Between the four of us, with a lot of swearing and struggling, we managed to move Pete’s bed into the dorm. A small cabinet with an alarm clock atop it separated the two beds. Pete sat on his newly made bed, smiling. “Finally a dormmate that won’t wax my eyebrows off while I sleep.” “You’ll need somewhere to carry your key,” I muttered, perched on the edge of the mahogany desk. “My pocket is fine.” I pulled open the draw, and removed the matching leather cuff to the one I always wore. Threw it over to him. They came as a set. I only ever wore one. Pete seemed touched. “I couldn’t keep this. You nearly always wear it…” “And I still am,” I said, rolling up my left sleeve to show him. “But doesn’t Gary… he will think I’m copying him.” “Screw Gary. Who cares what he thinks. I’ve been wearing my key on my cuff since my first day, long before I knew he did the same. Knowing didn’t stop me.” Pete smiled, hooking the keys around the clasp. “Thanks, Josh.” It would take some work, but Pete seriously needed to let go of the need to actually give a shit about what his tormenter said or thought. Category:Blog posts Category:WayfinderOwl's Fanfiction